


Vault 720 - The 7 Day S.P.E.C.I.A.L. Fallout Fanfic Challenge

by TheArtOfBlossoming



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4
Genre: 7 Day Challenge, Gen, Sentinel General Vincent 'Nate' Hudson, Vault720, Vincent Hudson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:47:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25918324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheArtOfBlossoming/pseuds/TheArtOfBlossoming
Summary: A fic writing challenge based on prompts starting with the letters S, P, E, C, I ,A and LConcept by TheArtOfBlossoming with prompt suggestions by various Tumblr friends, Aug 2020
Relationships: Duncan MacCready & Robert Joseph MacCready, Robert Joseph MacCready/Male Sole Survivor
Kudos: 12





	1. Something Forgotten

"I still can't believe I know who my parents were, not to mention Gramps!" MacCready was reclining on the red sofa, across Vin's lap. Shaun was away, bunking on the Prydwen and Duncan was asleep early, his recent growth spurt tiring him out.

"I'm glad you know too, Bun. I'm just sorry they're.. "

"Yeah. Well, that's just how life is nowadays, old timer." 

That comment got a nudge in the ribs with accompanying frown and grumble from Vincent. MacCready laughed quietly. "Aged like a fine whisky, I meant, my love."

"Hmm." Vin's eyes twinkled as he sipped from his glass.

Mac lazily watched his cigarette smoke curl up and through the warped ceiling tile. Married life had turned out to be full of precious little moments of doing nothing in particular, just like this. He found out that his mind wandered when it wasn't constantly on alert or chewing over worries about whether his luck would hold with Vin. The band of titanium on his left hand had chased those fears - finally - away. A question occurred to him.

"Vin, what was your mom called?"

Vincent put down his whiskey and the fingers that he'd been running through Mac's fluffy, upright, light brown mop paused in mid-caress.

"Oh, I can remember lots of names that Pop used to call her… I just can't repeat them incase our youngest is awake."

"I'm serious, Vin. I know she left your dad when you were about Duncan's age. I can't imagine how that felt… I know I hate being abandoned, though so it must have been rough. What was she called, though?"

Vincent's hand resumed its slide slowly down through Mac's hair and he became still, resting on the nape of his neck. MacCready craned his head up to look his husband in the face, to make sure that that faraway, radstag-in-the-headlamp expression hadn't settled there. The mask that his trauma wore. 

Vincent was simply looking puzzled, though. "I can't for the life of me remember her first name," he admitted. A little hint of panic showed. The Sentinel-General did not like it when his memory failed his command. 

"Her maiden name was Howat, though. I remember Pop going through the divorce paperwork. Damn, I should know this."

"Well, she's long gone, Vin. Don't worry about it now," Mac tried his best to close the query. Vincent, however, once he had a bone didn't let it go so easily.

"I'm gonna ask Aunt Libby," Vin said, sitting up and dislodging his new spouse. "Isn't she due by Goodneighbor next week?" 

"I don't know, you're the one with the Personal Information Processor permanently strapped to your wrist," Mac replied a little snidely. His peace had been shattered and he was mostly annoyed at himself for being the cause of it.

"Well, if you dug your inheritance outta the bottom drawer an' let me show you how to use it, you could have information at your fingertips, too. Of course, you..uh..you have to remember to put the info there in the first place," Vin admitted.

Mac chuckled. "Alright you stubborn son-of-a-brahmin. We'll go to Goodneighbor in the morning. I can drop Dunc off at Piper's on the way and then we can find out from Daisy. Now can you carry on doing that thing with my hair, again, Huggybear?"

Vin smiled at Mac's puppy eyes, poured them both one more whiskey and settled back to resume his caress.

* * *  
They spent three days in Goodneighbor waiting for Olivia Zander and her caravan to show. Hancock was around for the second night, good-naturedly trying to press a bottle of chems into Vin's hand but MacCready forcefully stepped in before he could give his 'gift', not that Vin would have taken it anyway but where chems and Vin were concerned, Mac wasn't taking any chances. Vin had almost died getting clean and Mac was pretty angry at John for forgetting.

"Okay, okay lovebirds. Say, whiskey on the house tonight. Unless you've gone tee-total too, Vin my friend?" Hancock's vestige of a face still managed to convey apology and the fact that he was at least making an effort at tact.

"Me? Give up whiskey, Hancock? As likely as me quitting cigars, man which is _never_. I need a couple vices to balance out my abundance of good karma, buddy." Vin smirked as John held a lighter to the stogie he suddenly held in his large hand. 

"So," Mac interjected. "Aunt Libby's due tomorrow?" 

"That feisty, foul-mouthed darlin'? Yeah, I got a big shipment due in," Hancock bragged. He saw Vin give him a look that suggested 'it's chems, isn't it, I'm disappointed' to which the Brigadier-General John Hancock held up his hands. "No, Sir, building supplies, food and bed sheets! We're doing a lot of good together and word is spreading farther every year!"

Mac sighed in relief. "Well, speaking of bed sheets, we'd better get between some soon. Just one drink, Vin."

"An' that's why I'm never gettin' circled," Hancock said behind his hand to a patron sitting nearby. "Alright, party-poopers, seeya round."

* * *  
It was around eight in the morning when Vincent's ghouled aunt arrived with her two brahmin and a three Minutemen escort. Once she and Daisy had done business and the brahmin had been seen to, she met with her nephew and his husband in the Rexford foyer.

"Vinnie! Oh and Big Boss Man!" she cooed.

"Aunt Libby, not in public, please," Mac grumbled. 

They exchanged hugs and put up with Libby gushing over what a handsome pair they were in their Minutemen of Steel uniforms, reminiscing about their wedding day and asking after Shaun and Duncan. Vin finally got a word in edgeways.

"I wanted to ask you something about the past, Libby. Something I've forgotten. Something I should remember.."

Olivia Zander, like many people of her unnatural age, didn't like to dwell on the past. For her, the two hundred year old memories were sharp, bright and painful or dull and crumbling, hidden under decades of other experiences. For Vin, much of it was still as fresh as if it had happened not much more than five years ago, though it had been more like two hundred and fifteen. Except for those gaps, holes in his memory burned away by cryogenic ice and more recent trauma. Little details, such as…

"Do you remember my mother's name?"

Aunt Libby laid a tough, rad-ribbed hand on her nephew's work calloused one. "That fucking heartbreaker harpy? Dearie, you don't need that baggage. Some things are better left forgotten."


	2. Passing...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent had believed himself to be straight for years. Society, media and family members reinforced his belief... but other family members knew otherwise. Even so, he eventually had to find out for himself.

The car drew up outside a closed store. "You sure this is the place, fellas?" 

"Yes, uncle Michael. Thanks for the ride." 

"No problem Vaughn. Keep this one outta trouble an' ahh..don't have too many _Nukas_ , huh?"

"Don't worry Pop, we can hold our _cola_ ," replied Vincent. Michael Hudson was a law abiding citizen but when it came to allowing two strapping young men to enjoy a couple of beers a little early, legally speaking, he'd argue that they were both man enough already. 

It was April, 2062. Vinnie was nineteen but not for much longer whilst Vonnie had recently turned seventeen. They were both about as tall as they'd ever get and almost as broad-shouldered as either would ever be. The cousins were proudly growing out their beards and while Vaughn's was tidily clipped, Vincent's was a bit wild. Vonnie's hair was swept back in a ronin knot, Vinnie's was tamed only with a red bandana, biker style. He wore his Ike's MIDKnights leather jacket, bearing a design of a bike wheel with clock hands at the midnight position and stars. Vinnie had drawn it for the gang himself.

The venue they were headed for was a late-night Spuckies bar. It was only around eight and Vincent knew that Vaughn was expecting to meet someone. They got out of the car, promised to be waiting in the same spot at midnight for their lift home. 

"Is she here yet?" asked Vin. "I don't see any hot chicks."

Vaughn's usually reserved expression melted into a huge grin. "Neither do I but I _do_ see my doll over there." He was waving now and Vin looked over to see a good looking young man waving back at Vaughn, waiting for them at the door.

"Oh, I forgot you said it was a _guy_ ," Vin exclaimed. Vonnie just shook his head slightly and said, "Behave," as if he were the elder of the two. They arrived at the door and Vaughn took the man's hand in a discrete squeeze. "Tom, I'd like you to meet my cousin Vincent. Vinnie, this is Thomas."

The two shook hands, Vin a little over-vigorously and they entered the café. Tom waved to the proprietor, who in turn waved them over to the corner. Tom ushered Vonnie to go first as the shop owner opened a hidden hatch in the floor, revealing basement stairs.

Speakeasys were not uncommon in Massachusetts but this was a little different than most. A blue neon sign declared the name to be the Guys Only Bar. Vin followed the other two down the stairs, noticing that in the presence of Tom, his usually very socially awkward cousin was actually relaxing - to a degree, at least.

They found seats at the bar. It was still early and only half-full. Vaughn bought the first round of drinks, actual Nuka Colas, to Vin's disappointment. 

"Don't start too early, cousin," Vonnie said. He and Tom were soon tête á tête and Vin was left tapping his foot to the radio. He felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, Biker. Need some decent fuel?" The blonde haired man nodded to Vin's half-finished Nuka.  
"Man alive, I could go for a beer, sure," Vin replied. The guy bought two and settled next to Vin.

Half an hour went by and conversation flowed. Vin enthused about bikes and gymnastics and rock 'n' roll whilst the blonde guy mostly just listened. Vonnie broke off from his quiet conversation once or twice to check on his cousin and smile. 

Vinnie turned once to see Vonnie and Tom kissing, which made him look away fast in the other direction. Blonde guy asked him a question but he didn't answer as just then, he spotted someone he knew.

"John-Jules! Hey buddy! Didn't know you knew this place was here, too. Vonnie's been keeping it a secret!"

"Vin, my main cat. Looks like he ain't the only one keepin' a lid on things!"

"Like _you've_ never been in a bar before. I know you've been drinking since you were sixteen."

"Hey, hush that shit. Want a beer, man?" J.J. caught the eye of the blonde man. "Or are you being looked after?" 

"Huh? No, we were just jawin'." Vin was oblivious to the blonde man's deflated expression, who then threw a cold glance at J.J. and stalked off toward the bathroom.

"I'm so glad you're here, man. Vonnie needed a wingman an' I was hopin' I might meet some company too," by which Vincent meant that he was expecting to meet a nice girl and had been disappointed but J.J., who unlike Vin was aware of the specific clientele of this particular bar, got his hopes up.

After yet another beer, Vaughn and J.J. were suddenly alone together whilst Tom and Vin made room for one last drink.

"Any luck, J.J.?" Vaughn asked.

"I don't know man. Your cousin is hard to read. I mean, he's givin' me signals but no permission to act on them, if you get my drift." J.J. ran a hand over his short-cropped dark hair. 

"I think it is this," started Vaughn. He sometimes had an overly-precise way of speaking, probably due to the fact that his mother's native tongue was not English, with whom he had spent most of his very early years. Vin's speech went the opposite way as he adopted greaser slang in a deliberate effort to 'be hep'. Vonnie continued, "he doesn't yet know himself. We can't kick him out of the closet, J.J. so please don't say anything. He needs to find out on his own."

Vin's college friend's face fell a little. "Alright, Pioneer Scout's honor but… maybe you can bring him out here again sometime? Y'know, drop some hints too?"

"I'll do my best. I just want to see my cousin happy, whoever he finds."

"Well, you see about keepin' his options open for m…oh shit." He stooped to grab the bottle he'd just knocked onto the floor as Vin returned. 

"You clutz, J.J." said Vin, playfully punching the guy's shoulder which made him drop the bottle yet again. "Oop. Better cut you off!"

Tom sauntered up. "Hey, Vaughnerella, it's almost midnight. Let me walk you to your.. um.. sidewalk?" Vaughn kissed Tom and they linked arms. Vin threw an eyebrow shrug at J.J. in response to the kiss, which only elicited a rather sad smile from the good-looking college fellow. Vin just didn't have a clue. Not even when J.J. walked in front of him and he became fascinated with the way the man was moving. _"Stop starin' at the guy's ass, eyeballs. I'm too damn drunk,"_ he thought to himself.

* * *  
Vincent met Nora a year later. J.J. had kept true to his word but became a bit of a wreck around Vin as he was still quite smitten. Vaughn wasn't the only one to notice that Vin was unconsciously giving him signals right back which just made the poor guy worse.

One evening, at a family meal Vaughn and Nora had a chance to speak. She had noticed Vin flirting, not just with J.J. but also with a guy in his motorcycle club. As she put it, 'the meathead seems to be oblivious!' Vaughn had secretly fallen in love with _her_ the moment he and Vin bumped heads trying to pick up Nora's dropped purse, but he'd been away at college whilst Vincent had leapt in first and started dating her. She then went on to question if Vin was really into her. Vonnie leaped to his cousin's defence. Flirting aside, he knew that Vin had found the woman of his dreams and that poor J.J. had only ever _almost_ had a chance. 

It wasn't until Nora's passing, so very many years later, that Vin finally allowed himself to face the truth of his heart; that he was equally capable of falling head over heels for a man as well as for a woman. Only one man ever filled him up with love as much as Nora had, though; that man's name was Robert Joseph MacCready.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite a personal subject for me. I met my opposite sex partner quite young - not quite 19 - and we eventually married and started a family. It was only in my early thirties, whilst going through therapy, that I realised that I'd been missing something huge about myself, something that when confessed to my partner they admitted they'd known for a long time because of my body language. I had been oblivious! Suddenly, old memories made sense. Vin, like myself, is bisexual.


	3. Essential Personnel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Companions are gathering for an important meeting...or so it seems.

_Ahh, Diamond City air. It was good to be back. Nowhere else in the Commonwealth smelled like the Great Green Jewel. People, noodles and just a hint of fresh paint._

_Busy, noisier than most places but a restful noise, not one that set your senses on high alert or came at you suddenly, at volume._

_It was time to gather the essential personnel for the mission. Piper was easy to find at Publick Occurances, as was Curie near Doc Sun's. Valentine was on Fallon's steps and Myrna delivered Preston._

_The Homeplate door opened. A good spot for the meeting. Hancock was already there, as were Dan and Codsworth and the Boss. Only Mac was missing and he was upstairs._

"Hey! That's mine! Give it back, you thief! Vin, make Dogmeat let go of my Grognak plushie, he'll tear it!" Mac whined from upstairs.

"Dogmeat, drop it. Good boy. Hey, what's all this mess under the stairs, boy? That's not a toy."

_What, the IV bag? That's Curie of course!_

"A pen?"

_Piper, of course_

"And what's this, a filthy old tie?"

_Take a guess._

"Heh, looks like the mutt has learned how to hoard stuff just like his human pet," joked MacCready.

"…and my Mr. Handy model! What, you want a Codsworth of your own, boy?"

_That **is** Codsworth, Boss._

Vin tidied away the Mr. Fuzzy ( _Preston_ ), the wobbly clown ( _Hancock_ ), the toy alien ( _Diesel Dan, he smelled similar_ ) and the old teddy bear ( _that's you, Boss_ ) back onto Dogmeat's blanket under the stairs.

"You don't wanna start copying me now, boy, picking up all the junk. Mac'll just whine at you to leave it!" Vin whispered to his old canine pal, ruffled his ears and stood up.

Dogmeat flopped down and sighed.

_Meeting dismissed,_ he thought.


	4. Coming Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> MacCready has been gone a long time. When is he coming home?

"I don't _wannanymore!_ " the boy shrieked, weakly. The bowl of cave fungus soup had barely been touched and Patchup put it down with a huff.

"You don't eat, you lose Strength points, yoot. Look, we promised our old Mayor that we'd take care of you. One more spoonful?"

The four year old could barely raise his head from the stack of stained pillows behind him but he leaned forward a little to slurp at the proffered spoon, then grimaced but swallowed.

"Good boy. Hey, you dropped Mr. Huggy! Let me clean him off for you." The boy with chestnut skin and a caring smile wiped a damp cloth over the old purple sloth, returning it to the younger boy's arms. He was careful not to touch any of the blue-tinged boils along the backs of his arms and hands.

"MINDY'S HERE!" came a yell from further out, toward the cavern entrance. It was echoed along by other voices, most high, one cracked. Patchup's heart pounded. If this was what he thought, then he'd better not screw this up. He heard running feet on the sandy tunnel floor, then in a whirl of blonde hair, the old army helmet slipping over her eyes, Mayor Newt arrived.

Nellie Newton was only thirteen but the older kids told of how they had been told stories in turn of a Mayor they once had called MacCready and how Mayor Newt was a kindred spirit. She'd inherited the old army helmet, well, that came with the job but she was good at it. The name MacCready had weight, so when the now-Mungo showed up, crying like a baby (so Newt told it), with his little boy all covered in blue bumps, they'd taken pity on them both. It wasn't MacCready's fault he grew up. 

The kids of Little Lamplight had been assured that the blue lurgy wasn't actually catching, that the kid just needed somewhere safe whilst his Dad went to get the medicine. They'd been paid handsomely in food, comics and clothing with a promise of caps when MacCready returned.

"Hey, Patchup! Scrub up, you bastard," Newt yelled. She held a metal case under one arm and when the young medic had washed his hands in hot water and soap, she opened the case and unravelled the cloth parcel.

"Mindy says, Daisy said that MacMungo told _her_ that this here cringe is the _ONLY_ one there is and our old Mayor had to fight an army of ferals to get it, so Don't. Fuckin'. Drop it."

"Syringe."

"S'what I said, now did you hear me, doc?"

"Affirmative, Mayor Newt."

The little boy in the bed was doing his noisy breathing again, Patchup noticed. 'This had better work,' he thought to himself.

* * *  
_I dreamed that a stingwing stabbed me in the arm. Crappy that hurt! I wake up crying but the doc boy is right there, shushing me like Dadda does. He shows me a sharp, shiny thing and tells me that the medicine is in my body now and it's fighting the blue lurgies that made the sore spots. They ain't as sore anymore._

"I want my Dadda! Where's my Dadda?"

"Shh, shh. Hey Duncan, you eat your food an' get your sleep, get rid of these ugly things an' we'll tell your Dad he can come pay..I mean, come pick you up, 'kay?" said Newton.

_I eat my yucky cave fungus, drink my drinks all up and hug Mr. Huggy 'til I can hug my Dadda again. I want to go home._

_Every day I feel better. I can stand up again, then I can play again, then I can run again. The blue bumps have gone but my skin is a bit funny where they used to be. It is rough but it is pink again._

_I got a letter from Dadda! He's coming in a flirty-bird with his best friend he told me about at Christmas. Daddy has a new house and we are going to live there. How long away is soon?_

_One day a lady comes. Her tummy is big. Did she eat a whole melon? Mayor Newt says no it's a baby you fucken eejit. She did not eat a baby I say. It must be groaning in her. I can hear a lot of baby groaning but Patchup says stay in my room._

_I can hear stompy feet and then…_

_"Dadda! I can hear my Dadda!"_

_"Patchup, we need you right freakin' now!"_

__The doc boy has gone away. I can hear my Dadda say my name but Buttercup is here and I can't get past her. I am going to cry but I hear Mayor Newt shout._ _

_"Hey, Little Boy Blue, blow that friggin' horn."_

_"Okay! I'm packing my bag and in it I put Mr. Huggy, my toys, my rags and my junk. I took Mr. Huggy out 'cause he don't like getting squishied. And my Gummydrops. Thanks Mayor Newt. You're too fuckin kind."_

__The Mayor is holding my hand and making me walk fast down the tunnel. We are near the gate. There's a lady on the floor and lots of red everywhere. There's two big men next to her on the ground. One is really big. The not so big man has a tiny little wriggly baby. He gives it to the biggest man._ _

__Is that…the huge man puts a hat on the other one.. I know that hat._ _

_"Dadda! Daddy came home!" Duncan ran, fully laden with bag and toy sloth, into MacCready's arms at last._

__Dadda makes me move around a bit to look at the lady. She's all tired and messy looking but she's smiling at me. The grownups do lots of talking but the lady gets something out of her pocket and shows us._ _

_"Dadda, that's a pretty pebble!"_

__The lady tells me to be good and I nod. She goes really quiet and still. Oh. I know what happened. Dadda looks real sad. I'm sad too but I know what to say._ _

_"Alright Daddy, she can go visit Mommy now!"_

__Dadda cried alot. We put the lady that Dadda called Granny Bonnie in the ground. Sweet dreams, Granny. The big man is Daddy's best friend called Vim. I asked Dadda if Mr. Huggy did a good job looking after me and he said yes. He talked to his best friend and they brought the little baby with us and they wrapped us up in armor and got in their big metal suits and then we stomped all the way to the flirty-bird and Dadda and Vin-with-an-EN didn't talk to each other. I was sick in the sky but it went out the side. Where did it land? Yuck! I went to sleep._ _

_"Duncan, we're home, son."_

__Daddy woke me up. A lady with dark hair is smiling at the baby. She holds my hand and says 'Hi, Sweetie!' I look around me._ _

_"Where's Mommy? You said she'd be here!"_

_The big man Vin says this isn't heaven and that Mommy and Granny Bonny are turned into love and I can feel them in my heart. I can. They are all warm and smiley but a bit sad too._

_Daddy and Vin show me a house that is all for us and a school and a bar but I'm not allowed until I am big. I don't tell Daddy that Mayor Newt gave me beer and I spat it out._

_Dadda covers my eyes and we go in our house and it is so freaky amazing! I got my own nice room and toys and gummydrops!_

_I told big Vin I know he likes my Daddy a lot and he said he loves him! With hugs I asked and he said yes, and kisses, yes and tickle fights I said but silly Vin didn't know what a tickle fight is so I showed him. Daddy said I can call Vin 'Pop' like that's another name for a daddy so I said Vin Pop like the drink that trader brought from a long way away and now I got two daddies, My Dadda and my Vin-Pop._

_I'm happy I came home._


	5. Idiosyncratic Intimacies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When two people who fit have been together for a while, they synchronise and develop little personal mannerisms.

They hadn't realised they were doing it until they overheard a comment about their mutual moustache preening in the Dugout. They'd been together for five years but it was only after they had got married that Vincent really relaxed and MacCready reciprocated.

When Vin and Mac were officially off-duty and after the first drink, Vin would drape his arm around Mac's shoulders or Mac would perch on his knee. They would gently smooth each others' moustaches if any hairs were out of place, light each others' smokes and sneak quick kisses when they thought they weren't being observed. 

Vin always liked to be in contact with Mac somehow, sitting right up against him or placing a hand on his knee. Mac always sat to his left if at all possible, so he could speak quietly into Vin's one good ear. Mac preferred to choose where they sat or stood so that he could keep watch, even in places he knew were safe. Mac always kept his hat on and it was the one thing Vin kept his hands off! (Except for one rather drunk evening in Goodneighbor when Emogene Cabott suggested the swap hats for a laugh. She was the only one giggling though, both men just felt weird and uncomfortable.)

Their nicknames were reserved for the privacy of their own home or private quarters. Usually, they were just Vin and Mac to one another, or on duty, Sentinel-General and Paladin-Major, or whichever half of those titles related to the company they were in, whether the Minutemen or Brotherhood. When 'Vincent' or 'R.J.' were used, they were used in all seriousness to get attention from the other, usually to air gripes with an exchange of frowns.

However, when caresses and kisses were exchanged instead, then 'hero' and 'cinnamon bun' or 'huggybear' and 'cowboy' were uttered.

They often paused and smiled when they caught each others' gaze or mirrored each other's movements if one lifted a hand to the other's face. They'd been watching each other's backs for so long, moving together as a team that when they relaxed, their dance of idiosyncratic intimacies were a joy to behold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thankyou for reading, please do leave a comment!


	6. Authentic or Nothing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Finding the right birthday present isn't always easy.

"Do you think he'll like this, Vincent?" Preston held something out in front of him, though Vin, prostrate under a suit of power armour, was too busy making sure he didn't drop the fiddly bolt that he had no replacement for. 

"Hmm?"

Preston waited patiently until Vin sat up.

"Hancock. Do you think he'll like this gift?"

Vincent's train of thought was still firmly running along its power armour engineering tracks, trying to solve the problem of attaching a thigh plate with the wrong type of bracket.

"What's up with Hancock?"

MacCready piped up from where he was also sat in the armoury, surrounded by pieces of his beloved sniper rifle as he gave it a service. "Come back down to Earth, spaceman! It's Hancock's birthday, remember?"

Vin mentally put aside his engineering problem. "I thought he didn't celebrate it, anymore?"

Preston smiled. "Well, he didn't think he deserved celebrating but he changed his mind after you made him Brigadier. He very loudly declared it to the whole mess hall the other night."

"I wish I'd been here," said MacCready, ruefully. "Cait said he put on quite a show!"

"Doesn't he always?" asked Preston. "So Vin, do you think he'll appreciate this?"

Vincent leaned forward to examine the item laying on a burgundy cloth across Garvey's arms. It was an antique sword.

"Well, what do you think?" Preston asked.

"Oh, he'd love it… if it was authentic," Vin replied. The sound of Mac rubbing beeswax onto the wood of a stock ceased.

"But it's an antique!" Preston objected.

"Garvey, even canned food is over a century old so these days most everything is antique. That doesn't make it authentic."

Preston frowned. He'd gone to a fair bit of trouble to find this Revolutionary blade. "Well then, you think someone made a pretend old sword? Why would anyone do that?"

Vincent thought back to his childhood. "My Pop used to belong to a re-enactment society. They'd gather at a park of a weekend, dress up and do battle for entertainment and educational purposes, using blunt blades like this one," Vin explained, taking the blade for a closer look.

Preston's eyes lit up. "That sounds like fun!"

"Sounds like a waste of time," MacCready grumbled. 

"You wouldn't say that about dressing up as Grognak and going up against someone dressed as Grelok without risk of getting injured worse than a few bruises."

"Grelok'd be the one with the bruises!" Mac said defensively.

"See? My Pop used to enjoy pretending to be a historical character just as much as you enjoy dressing up as a fictional one!"

Preston laughed at that and raised his hands, "I don't wanna know, fellas!" 

Vin and Mac exchanged grins. "Anyway," the Sentinel-General said, "You can tell this blade has been machined, not forged. It won't sharpen well and will probably break after being used in real combat. Hancock'd pick up on that, too."

The Colonel looked deflated. "So what do you suggest, General?"

"It just so happens I found a genuine Spadroon… that's what this type of sword is called. Belonged to Shem Drowne…"

"The colonial weathervane maker?" Preston was intrigued.

"The very same," Vin replied as Mac muttered "History geek," under his breath.

"You know, I have it here in the Castle."

"You do? I'd love to see it… but we still need to find something for Hancock," Preston pointed out.

"He can have it. Give me that replica to put on the wall, almost nobody will notice."

Vin brought the real antique to the armoury. "See the marks in the steel here? That's how you can tell it was forged. And the color of the wood? See the wear on the grip, here?" By this point, Mac had abandoned his rifle temporarily to look over Preston's shoulder and join the impromptu history lesson.

* * *

The doors to the Old Statehouse swung open to admit the few V.I.P. guests. Hancock was draped over a chaise longue, waving the guests in with a lordly wave of his lace-trimmed cuff.

Preston presented him with the cloth-draped gift.  
"Many happy returns, Brigadier-General!" said the Paladin-Colonel. "Just.. be careful with this, alright?"

Hancock grinned and carefully unveiled the blade. He looked at it carefully, without touching it for a minute, then lifted it up to the light.

"A real antique… just like our pal Vincent," he smirked, looking at his named friend. "Fellas, this is… just beautiful. Thankyou. An authentic piece of history…"

"Just like the man holding it," Preston smiled back. "This place would be nothing without you, John. Happy Birthday!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by a comment by @fallout-fucker (honestly, guys, these pseudonyms...) about how Preston and Hancock's friendship would look, 'geeking out on history' together.


	7. Last Orders at the Dugout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Knight Rhys has been struggling for three years since Paladin Danse officially died. He knows otherwise. Ever since Vin confronted Haylen and himself on the roof of Cambridge Police Station, he's been harbouring his deepest secret. It's destroying him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This new Brotherhood only targets *feral* ghouls and *hostile* Gen 1's and 2's. Vincent reset Maxson's moral code when he became Sentinel. People can change...

"I was kind of hoping we'd get orders to go back home, not hang around in this backwater," came a female voice through the helmet speaker.

"Get used to it, soldier. We're all here to stay, now." The owner of the grizzled voice pushed past the armoured Knight, the hard points on the arm of his orange uniform chiming harshly on the carapace of his colleague. She didn't budge from the impact as she would have out of the mechanical exoskeleton but she was moved by the sheer momentum of the man's mood to sway back a little. Rhys had always been a cross-patch but since he'd lost his Paladin, even moreso.

The hallway leading to the Dugout Inn was shiny after a recent mopping. The smell of Abraxo irritated his nostrils and caused him to deepen his sneer. Knights were never entirely off-duty but they were afforded some down-time and of late, Leonard Rhys always chose to take his here.

It had been three years, now, since everything had changed...but things still hadn't changed enough. Rhys ordered a beer and a snack. Vadim knew better than to try his usual banter on this Knight but took out an envelope from a discreet drawer and slipped it into the snack box before handing it over.

He barely registered the latest tall tale from Hawthorne, the subdued music on the radio, the mechanical whirr, ceramic chink and groan of disappointment as the perpetual pie remained unclaimed once more. He looked for his usual seat tucked away at the back, loped over and collapsed into it, allowing the faded yellow upholstery and warped wooden frame to take the entire weight of his discontent.

He popped his beer, leaving the cap to fall unclaimed to the floor and reached into the snack box. The paper edge cut his finger but he hardly noticed, his mind was already trying to predict what the secret note would divulge. His fears were repainted in vivid colours with the brush of the first lines.

_We can't keep this up, L. I can read what it is doing to you between the lines of all your letters of the past year. If my flag was trampled underfoot, then yours has become a tattered rag in the wind. Either renew it by releasing me or let it go. Only you have the solution, here.  
Be safe. S._

"You gonna eat those?" MacCready suddenly stood beside him and poked at the box of Fancy lads, sending them sliding across the table to bump into Rhys' trembling hand. An authoritative voice reined Mac's flippancy in. 

Rhys clenched his jaw, trying to order tears not to spill in public but one irreverently disobeyed orders and slid down his cheek anyway. It shocked the Paladin-Major into silence whilst the Sentinel-General laid a cautious left hand on his shoulder from behind, slowly appearing in Rhys' peripheral blurred vision as he lowered himself slowly into the seat on his right. Vin's gaze skittered across the table to the open note and away before allowing his eyes to relay their reconnaisance to his brain. He knew exactly who the missive was from, though. He'd delivered it to Vadim himself.

"I didn't expect to see you here, Sir," Rhys managed, quietly.

"We hadn't expected to be in the area." Sentinel-General Vincent Hudson gently placed a tumbler of whiskey onto the table.

The audience to Hawthorne's tale were creating quite a ruckus, now. It had turned into some kind of drinking game. The noise forced Vin to shuffle closer to hear his knight but also camouflaged their conversation well.

"He misses you."

Three words from the Sentinel and Rhys was in pieces, again. His gruff, boxer's features reddened and crumpled as he fought to hold back the tidal wave of three years' worth of longing.

MacCready was confused. He'd not quite cottoned on to what was happening here, had certainly never seen the man he privately nicknamed 'The Grouch' express any emotion other than gritty annoyance. 

Vin realised this and explained. "Diesel," (meaning Diesel Dan aka former Paladin Danse,) "flirted with me once."

Mac had to interject. "If you realised that's what was going on, it must have been some heavy duty flirtation! Oww!" 

Rhys had actually kicked him, under the table.

Vin ignored the childish exchange. "I realised that he often looked at Leonard a certain way…" he paused to sip his drink.

"So your 'gaydar' works fine on everyone but yourself.." mumbled Mac very quietly.

"…and it dawned on me that they had feelings for one another," Vin continued.

"We've been in touch ever since, thanks to the Sentinel," Rhys reneged on his silence. "Though you'll have just one more letter to send. We're done."

"What?" exclaimed Vin. 

"We can't keep this up. We've met in person again just once in all these years. Paper can only feed a flame for so long…"

There was a sudden silence filled only with the clink of glass and a deep belch before the uproar resumed to cover Rhys' emotional tracks once more.

"Never knew you were a poet, Rhys," Mac said, surprised at these revelations.

He shifted in his seat. "There's more to me than Brotherhood," admitted the battered soldier.

"Then prove it," Vincent challenged. "Do you love him?"

Rhys crumpled a little more and nodded.

"More than is reasonable? More than duty? More than you fear losing him?"

Rhys was at first stunned and then visibly inflated by this. His demeanour changed, pulling himself back, away from despair. _More than duty._ rang in his mind. "Yessir." 

"Then I order you to resign from the Brotherhood," Vin held up a hand but it was his gaze that stopped Rhys' reply - and Mac's, for that matter - in their tracks.

"Back when this.." he gestured between Rhys and the note, "…started, it was before we claimed the Castle. The Minutemen could be counted on two hands. Nowadays, the ranks have swelled. We're always looking for more recruits, though. Leonard, the Brotherhood is the only thing standing between you." He paused, considering whether or not to divulge his next revelation. Mac could see the process play out in those green eyes of his. They lit up. Green for 'go'.

"Maxson knows Dan is alive but he won't or can't go back on his word, as much as he regrets it. We've too much work to do still to change the crash course that the Brotherhood was on. Ingram knows too but no-one else. Look, I know what it's like to feel torn up in love. It'll ruin you if you don't allow it to redefine you and you're too good a soldier to lose."

Rhys swigged his beer thoughtfully, tossed a Fancy Lads to Mac and clinked his bottle against Vin's whiskey glass. To MacCready's surprise, Rhys actually smiled. He'd never thought that dread grimace could even turn upside-down but the man he now saw before him was as unfamiliar as a complete stranger. Suddenly he could see why Dan might be attracted. Also, his insecurities added, it might stop Dan from constantly telling Vin that he liked it when he was close. Even though Dan was currently miles away at Nuka World caring for a troubled teenage synth.

"May I suggest, Sir," he rumbled like a receding thundercloud, "that my last orders are rather to transfer to the Minutemen, which only the Sentinel could proxy and the General could possibly sign off on?"

Vincent grinned. "Of course. I'll do the paperwork first thing tomorrow. Your first assignment, in that case, will be stripping power armour at the Nuka Red Rocket garage." 

Mac's face registered the double-entendre but Rhys didn't quite get it. Vadim rang the bell.

Vin smirked, leaned in close and said, "Where do you think Dan has been living all this time?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You heard Vadim ring that bell, challenge complete! 
> 
> Please leave comments, not just kudos if you enjoyed reading these - or any fics here on Ao3. Authors get so much out of feedback!
> 
> This challenge is open for the rest of 2020 so if you'd like a go yourself, pop over to Tumblr to get the prompts and guidelines:
> 
> https://theartofblossoming.tumblr.com/post/626522627237969920/the-7-day-special
> 
> Once again, thankyou so much for reading. Let us know what you think!


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